


Revelation and Requite

by caswell



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Pre-Canon, Sloppy Makeouts, i dont know what to call this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:28:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4980868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caswell/pseuds/caswell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As little as he wants to admit it, Misaki Yata is totally and completely head-over-heels for his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revelation and Requite

**Author's Note:**

> I was too embarrassed to post this for like two weeks after I wrote this honestly  
> It was mostly stuff I wrote for comfort because a lotta stuff happened and Sarumi is really important to me for personal reasons so...  
> Anyway enjoy and hopefully it isn't too OOC but I'm not a very good judge of that

The first time Yata noticed Saruhiko-  _really_ noticed him- was on a humid summer day. He had his throwing knives at the ready, totally calm despite the threat of the Blue clansmen- in fact, he was smiling. His hair was more unruly than ever, damp with sweat and spiked up into wild tufts. Yata looked at him and felt the world stop, and he felt for a brief moment as if his friend would stay that way forever, like a photograph. But then a member of Scepter 4 thrust his sword at Yata, and time started moving again just in time for him to block it with his bat. A second later the attacker had a shoulder full of knives.

 

That evening was, without a doubt, the most awkward time of Yata's life. The reason was this: he and Saruhiko changed around each other- always had, and presumably always would. There wasn't really any reason not to; their home was small and dingy, and though one  _could_ change in the bathroom, it was musty and dark and smelled a little like something decomposing.

Getting to the point, Yata saw Saruhiko naked- or at the very least shirtless- on a twice-daily basis. But after that thought- that  _experience_ \- earlier in the day, Yata felt there was something different about it now. He'd never purposely  _watched_ Saruhiko change, because he wasn't a fucking creep, but tonight he couldn't help but  glance at him out of the corner of his eye while he pretended to play a video game. Saruhiko was more fit than he noticed- not exactly musclebound, bit certainly more muscular than himself, who ate a bit too much junk food to qualify as 'built'. His skin was still a bit slick with sweat, which was a little gross, but also kind of hot? Yata banished the thought and turned back to his game, but it kept niggling at the back of his mind.

 

"You've been acting weird lately," Saruhiko said. "Weirder than normal, that is."

"I take offence to that!" Yata retorted, knocking Saruhiko on the shoulder with his fist- gently, of course.

They were seated at the bar, soaking in the evening light that filtered through the windows. It had been an unusually calm day, nothing much to do,and so after grabbing some ramen they had all come back to the bar and were now just chatting.

"Well, it's true," Saruhiko continued. 'You've been distracted, even during missions." He sounded nonchalant, but Yata could tell he was genuinely concerned. He became acutely aware of his own sweating palms.

"Iiiiit's nothing," Yata lied. "I mean, it's, um, private." He squirmed.

Saruhiko blinked at him, then turned away again. "If you say so."

 

 _At some point you need to think more about this,_ a voice said in the back of Yata's head.  _That's bullshit,_ he said back. The fact that this conversation with himself was taking place at 1 in the morning wasn't concerning at all, no way.

Yata listened to the soft sound of Saruhiko's breathing until he fell asleep. He dreamt about Saruhiko. Saruhiko  _touching_ him. On his face, under his shirt, under his -- 

He couldn't look Saruhiko in the eyes the next morning.

 

Another skirmish with Scepter 4, and Yata and Saruhiko were fighting side-by-side, as always. The rest of HOMRA always referred to the two of them as 'partners'... he had never questioned that, because that  _was_ what the acted as, but lately the term had given Yata a warm sort of thrill that was very stupid and very hard to ignore.

Lately it seemed to him that  _everything_ about Saruhiko was thrilling- the inadvertent touches; the intensity of his gaze, but the softness when it turned to himself; the light blush that rose on his cheeks when Yata complimented him... There was a constant tightness in his chest now. It was unbearable, but enjoyable at the same time. Life is confusing, it seems.

Yata finally let the thought come to him, surfacing in his mind as he swung his bat, smashing a Blue clansman in the jaw.  _I think I'm in love,_ he thought, as they dropped their sword, clutching the side of their face.  _I think I'm in love with my best friend, and I'm probably in too deep to get out now._ He glanced over at Saruhiko and the now-familiar skip in his heartbeat.  _Oh yeah. Definitely in love._

 

The revelation was, put simply, concerning. Yata never expected love to be so mind-consuming. Sure, he could still fight effectively- people say it's like he was born for it- but his mind was always on Saruhiko. In his 16 years, Yata'd never felt like this, and it was kinda scary. At this point he'd realized that people noticed things were off about him, though they never asked for fear of his vicious temper.

He was sitting on his bed, mulling over that very topic, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and gave what could only be described as a squawk when he saw who it was. "S-Saruhiko!"

"Yes, that's my name," Saruhiko said, taking a seat next to him. He looked at Yata with a piercing gaze that felt almost painful. "Something's bothering you, Misaki." He stated it as a fact, like there was no room for denial. Maybe that was a good thing.

Yata swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. ...Uhh," he mumbled, shifted his gaze from Saruhiko's eyes to the floor. "Have you ever... had... a crush." It came out in a squeak, and he blushed deeply with embarrassment.  _Ohhh my god,_ he thought,  _this is so uncomfortable please let me die._

Saruhiko blinked, and a look of understanding crossed his face. "Oh... I see." He clicked his tongue. "Who's the lucky girl?" He knew very well, of course, that Yata didn't have any female friends. Or, well, there was Anna, but she didn't count.

Yata wanted to scream,  _It's not a girl, dammit, it's you!_ He was dangerously close to, but he bit his tongue until he composed himself. "Uh, it's nobody you know," he lied. He knew immediately that Saruhiko would never buy it. _  
_

Saruhiko narrowed his yes. "I'm sure. ...You know," he continued, "you can trust me, Misaki." His gaze didn't falter, though Yata was certain that at this point he knew what was coming.

Yata's ears burned, and his breath came in and out shakily. "This is so pathetic," he muttered. "Saruhiko. It's. Not a girl. It's you." Yata took a deep breath, and then words began to tumble from his mouth- it reminded him of a waterfall. "I just... think you're really amazing and also scary, but kind of in a good way? Andalsohot. Don't look at me." He shifted uncomfortably. "Uhm. Please say something?"

"I see," Saruhiko said lowly.

"You see?"

"I see."

"Oh. Okay." Yata shifted uneasily. "So... what does that mean for us?"

"What do you  _want_ it to mean?" Saruhiko asked. His fingers brushed against Yata's, who blushed impossibly redder. Saruhiko, the cheeky bastard, grinned at this.

"Uhhh... I-I don't know," Yata stammered, "like, I still wanna fight with you, obviously, but I also kinda wanna kiss you?" He bit his lip nervously. Breathed in, breathed out. "Is that okay?

"That's more than okay," Saruhiko replied, and suddenly his lips were on his jaw, and Yata's head was spinning, and was this going too fast? But all his worries melted away when Saruhiko put his hands under Yata's shirt and onto his hips.

Within a few moments, Yata was on his back, and his shirt was tossed across the room. Saruhiko's skin, usually cool to the touch, was warm against his own.His lips would brush first against Yata's neck, then his cheek, then, of course, his lips- it was loving, but there was something ferocious and hungry behind it. Yata didn't mind.

As he pulled Saruhiko closer to himself, Yata felt an overwhelming- but at the same time, pleasant- heat in his chest, and he began to laugh almost hysterically. Saruhiko looked up from Yata's now-bruised collarbone, squinting in confusion. "What're you laughing about?"

"I don't know," Yata snickered. He flashed Saruhiko a grin. "I'm just happy."

Saruhiko smiled back at him, with his glasses glinting in the artificial light and his hair mussed up by Yata's grip, and Yata felt like if he died right there, well, maybe that would be kind of okay.

 


End file.
